


Yandere Strider scribbles

by localdadfriend



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Blood, Character Death, Forced Orgasm, Kidnapping, M/M, Rape/Non-con Elements, Stridercest - Freeform, YANDERE STRIDERS, Yandere, ish, like some nasty shit, nothing major yet just like makinging out... and kidnapping
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-26
Updated: 2016-06-25
Packaged: 2018-07-10 07:07:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6972235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/localdadfriend/pseuds/localdadfriend
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just short drabbles about a yandere Hal after some D-stri ass. I dunno how to summary this shit dude. </p><p>Dispatching Jake English is such a huge step for you. </p><p>...</p><p>You’ve got a cabin on reserve. You’ve made the decision that Dirk Strider is going to accompany you.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Just stuff based of sgt-spanks art on tumblr - he's really cool go check him out  
> Make requests here: http://shipsham.tumblr.com/

While annoying at worst the second cup of coffee spilled on you today by a fool not paying attention to the sidewalk is the least of your concerns. Coffee stains are quite easy to get out actually. Much better than the blood stains that have been reoccurring lately if you can really justify comparing the two as equals. It’s not your fault. Just a symptom accompanying the growing satisfaction in your chest. 

Whistling you wash your hands with soap and water. Watch as the color of diluted reds swirl around the sink forming aesthetically pleasing patterns. The smell lingers, but you don’t care. Why aren’t you upset? God it’s risk, but, you can’t get over your excitement. 

Dispatching Jake English is such a huge step for you. 

How in the world someone as intellectually brilliant as Dirk Strider could tolerate such arrogant companionship - the brunet’s laugh alone set your irritation rocketing, Or, perhaps the way Dirk looked at him too long. The lingering brushes of skin. Jake stealing a kiss on the cheek. It must have been for irony but you don’t care. A kiss is a kiss and Jake English threatened your chances of growing closer to the blond you found yourself so fond.The water turns off, the sink appearing sound and clean, as if nothing was ever amiss. No one will notice his absence for a few days. He must have simply wandered off a cliff during one of his latest ‘adventures.’ All things are possible. Especially now that you’ve removed the primary cause of your competition. Jake English is by no means a match to any of your mental or physical skills. The boy was merely unlucky enough to catch a Strider’s eye. 

Crossing over your single room dorm. (No roommate for obvious reasons.) You pull open a drawer, retrieve a small container, and return a small syringe to the empty divet of plastic completing a set of three. On top of the drawer lay the chain off a wallet. The newest piece to add to a collection of Dirk related items. 

Dirk Strider, he’s only a few years older than you are. You’ve been noted to look quite similar save for your hair which is much lighter, closer to white than platinum. This idea sets a low spark in your chest, burning with content. Not bright enough to be fanned into a flame standing on it’s own but you don’t intend on watching from the shadows forever. What good would hard work like this be if you never progressed forward? 

It’s essential that you don’t put all your confidence into words. A small backpack slinging over your shoulders carrying the possible necessities for your upcoming operation. You’ve have enough practice with chloroform to know just how much will knock you out. Forensics has been quite relevant as of late. You’ll need to thank your professor when you find the time.But you’ve got such big plans now that Jake English is out of the picture! You demand to be noticed and take his place alongside Dirk. It’s a long weekend and you’ve got a cabin on reserve. You’ve made the decision that Dirk Strider is going to accompany you.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah shit son it got a bit longer!   
> Once again can also be found here. 
> 
> http://shipsham.tumblr.com/post/144936762640/sobbing-buy-why-friend-also-tagging

Licking the front of your teeth the metallic taste should disturb and sicken you, but in the wake of the moment the warm liquid only heightens your arousal. To test the theory in your head you lean forward swallowing some sort of protest from below, tongue circling the bottom of Dirk’s lip. It looks like he wasn’t being too careful with his teeth. What would happen if he bled more? Along his throat maybe.. Above a strong steady pulse? Perhaps above his heart. 

He’s been coming in and out of a drugged state the past hour or so. Consciousness expanding as the chloroform wears off bit by bit. The cabin is cozy. Small and warm thanks to the small fire you’ve lit. Everything is clean, unfortunately it won’t stay that way, but you can just replace sheets. 

Dirk stays on the carpet, the zip ties on his wrist have been replaced by intricate knots. It’s more personal. Shirt removed. Pants also removed. He’s all tied up, the literal image of how he makes your insides feel minus an extreme heart melting heat. The only comparison you have for that is fire, as appealing as marking him would be you’ll refrain from any sort of branding. 

You simply wait. Wait as his brilliant orange eyes awaken more and more. He’s getting noisier that’s for sure. Nothing coherent yet. “Dirk? When you’re awake I want to play a game.” Voice higher than it should be, strained like an overstretch string on a violin. “Shh, shh… I know this was so unplanned.” You huff, sighing. Almost allowing yourself the pleasure of smearing the blood across his lip with your thumb. Nail tilted to drag along his jaw before your mouth moves forth to wipe his skin clean. It’s an acquired taste but you can’t say you dislike it. 

“Mmphf!” 

Oh. Well then, good-morning. He’d have done much better to sit still because the second Dirk’s hips hit yours a premature shudders escapes. Thighs squeezing his waist in response. Hands shaking as your nails bite into the flesh of his torso dragging down, thin red welts left behind brightening as the seconds pass. “F-Fuck!” You rock down against him not paying mind to the fact you’re the only one erect. You’ll fix that later. There’s a metal zipper painfully biting against your dick, and somehow you’re only that much more turned on by it. 

“..Ha-Hal..” 

Dirk’s voice is so dry, hoarse and unsuited for long soliloquy but it’s the way he says your name that really gets you. 

“Well goddamn. I’m sorry Dirk. I thought I’d have more patience but this is really hard.” Your voice comes out as a whine, when had it become so desperate and needy? A breathy laugh is let out at your own play on words. “This,” you grind against his stomach with a muffled groan for emphasis. “Is also really hard.” You might be leaking. It’s early for that but god who could blame you?

Dirk looks like he’s going to say something else but you cut the words off when reaching behind yourself to roughly cup the shape of his dick squeezing generously. 

“Don’t worry, don’t worry. We’ll get you there too bro.” 

He isn’t responding now, but he will. Retracting your hand you lean down in favor of meeting his lips. “Just -uh,” fuck, you seriously need to get rid of your pants. “Gotta give some to get some.” You murmur before delving your tongue past his lips with little forethought.  
Once again your mouth fills with blood. 

Only this time it isn’t Dirks. 

The feel of his teeth embedding muscle absolutely aches. 

You almost cum then and there.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Someone cums *jazz hands*

You managed to hold off after that delicious bite, somehow. Perhaps it’s because the imprint of teeth pulses spots of pain inside your mouth whenever you move your tongue. If anyone else tried a move remotely similar they would probably end up with some sort of cut across their skin. The lethalness of said cut would be debatable. Except the man beneath you is not just anyone. It’s Dirk Strider. You wouldn’t bother wasting time on anyone else. 

Instead of any verbal response you gain the pleasure of sharp nails biting into skin, and long thin streaks of red that produce small beads of blood. The (unhappy) voice sets a tick in the back of your head. It’s annoying. The fact you’ve arranged and gone through so much effort to get to this point is annoying. The utter lack of participation is annoying and (not) unexpected. 

The tick grows further as you pull away to observe the blond beneath you. Eyes glaring, searching for something in your own. Dirk gives no answer in the twitch of his brow or glance of his eye. Nothing beyond general fury, of which you note is growing. Pft. As if he has the right to be mad here! Really? You did all the work! Tongue clicking (ow) you scoot down to sit on his thighs. Watching. Allowing him to struggle with multiple failed attempts to sit up. 

Dirk gained one victory however with the removal of your lips. You’ve taken the hint and by the off chance he is anywhere near crazy as you, it’d be preferred you had an intact tongue. (Teeth are strong enough to bite off a finger like a carrot, how much more difficult would a tongue be?)

You’re not entirely content with this new position, of being forced to accommodate. Maybe Dirk would have preferred you linger about his lips because soon there are fingertips tracing the inside of his thigh. Teasing the skin, pushing the fabric of his boxers further upward. 

“So I may have lied, what a fucking-surprise, better spank me now Teresa.” A scoff escape’s and you relax. Relish the moment as Dirk does the same. Voice hitching softly. “A lot of work was poured into this Dirk.” Voice reprimanding. Your hands push up under the fabric to massage the skin. Circling a nerve along his hip bone. The fabric scrunches up. You feel a twitch of muscles while a sound escapes his throat. You think that he’s probably suffering extensive cottonmouth considering the fact he isn’t completely telling you off. 

At some point teasing him is no longer fun and you’ve gone to removing his underwear altogether. A mission in mind to revive his southern region. Looks pretty dead. Might need CPR.

“Jake won’t bother you anymore.” It’s said as a whisper, like saying it too loud will jinx everything. Though you know very well that there is a new skull in your dorm room. Fucker loved skulls, it only seemed fitting. “The fucking twat, whatta pest am I right?” You don’t get a response. “I don’t know why you didn’t get rid of him instead.” You’ve moved to your knees giving the attempt with your hands up. You’ve always been a bit impatient when it comes to these things. The following words all hot breath spoken against more sensitive skin. You earn another twitch of the hips and hear a gasped breath. The two might not be correlated. The smirk you wear confirms you believe otherwise. Breathe air against him for the fun of it. Another twitch. Blood travels to your groin. “I wish you could have seen it. How dumb he looked half naked and bleeding.” There was some sort of satisfaction in telling Dirk. 

Your hand has moved back to holding Dirk’s flaccid dick. Pumping it with a certain sort of determination. You press lazy kisses along its underside. There’s a strangled noise of upset pleasure above you. You dismiss it. 

“I hate him.” It feels good to say. So you repeat it, louder. Intensity lacing your voice. Maybe you should make that past tense but the hate’s still there. “He treated you like shit. I’m not stupid.” Voice beginning to speed up along with the rhythm of your wrist. “Fucker kisses you. Has the AUDACITY to kiss you and then runs the other fucking way. Not me, nope, I’m here for the long haul.” Emphasizing this you take two or three inches down your throat with no warning. Tongue lapping at the taste of skin and salt and /Dirk/. Whom lets out yet another strangled sound, even if he’s upset right now his junk is beginning to become quite agreeable. You enjoy the way he squirms this time, associating it with pleasure vs. struggle.

You have a tendency to talk a lot. Enjoy it, the interaction and intimacy that comes with. Licking a stripe along the underside of his cock as it becomes erect, you continue “Bet he’d leave ya hanging huh? Not that I’d ever let him get his hands on you. God no. It’s just like, I had to kill him y’know?”  
“Hal..” There’s a warning to his voice despite how dry and pathetic it sounds. He can hardly finish the name.

Before he can say anything else you swallow him down until he hits the back of your throat. Fine hair tickling your nose. It’s a slight discomfort but when the fuck has that ever mattered? Nothing wrong with a bit of pain.

Something about the way his hips twitched forward gave away his pleasure. Well, physically at least. You didn’t want to make it all one-sided. That’d be pretty rude after all. Hence having a dick in your mouth and all.

Not that Jake is worth anything, you just want him to know. If not for the hollowing of your cheeks and the fought back moan as you move your head. You could tell him about how stupidly real his accent was. What the hell was he British? How he thought you genuinely wanted to show him your fossil collection. The confusion on his face when you told him they were human. Another gasp. Fighting back a gag to take him as far as your mouth will allow the gasp above matches the quality of Jake English with wire around his neck. You let out a moan around Dirk. He responds a surprising amount. Possibly because you’re no longer talking. 

Aside from your excessive attention and the hallowing of your cheeks, the lack of conversation probably pushes him further to a point where he can manage to cut back a low groan, hips jerking upward. Once. Twice. A salty tastes fills your mouth. When you go to kiss him there’s a glassy look of hate clouding his eyes.


End file.
